


/r/camgirls

by TheMiddleEast



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, I'm Sorry, Im tired, camgirl!rey, i also didn't really do a good job of checking this for mistakes, i guess?, the fruits of my labour from midnight to 3am, there might be more chapters of this, this is filth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-09-18 19:31:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9399842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMiddleEast/pseuds/TheMiddleEast
Summary: The website wasn’t threatening, and if the video didn’t load, it would just look like some sad relative of vimeo. But the video did load, and he didn’t check how long ago the cross-post was submitted in the reddit thread, but he connected as soon as a slender hand started pulling at the waistband of a pair of sheer black panties.or porn aficionado Ben Solo finds a cute girl streaming in his hour of need





	1. Chapter 1

The nights welcomed Ben with a steady internet connection and a lock on his bedroom door. Despite his age and dexterity with technology and research, he couldn’t find good porn if his life depended on it.

PornHub and RedTube weren’t exactly high brow, and neither of them seemed to produce anything that didn’t make his toes curl in all the wrong ways. In dire circumstances, they might do, but the overwhelming feeling of shame and disgust that comes before his refractory period has kicked back into gear is a feeling that ruins the whole setting-aside-a-few-hours-to-rub-one-out thing.

It was an embarrassing sight, really. His room pitch black, face illuminated by the bright orange secondary colours of PornHub, scrolling through pages and pages of _solo guy, solo girl, lesbian, roleplaying_ , cocking an eyebrow, shaking his head, like he was some goddamn pornography connoisseur. 

His balls were starting to ache, and he was running into a constant stream of dead ends. He contemplated giving up, falling back into his pillows and staring into the darkness of his bedroom melodramatically. He was getting frustrated, but finals were coming up and he _knew_ he probably wouldn’t have the luxury to set aside time like this for a week or more.

He’d have to get creative with it, he thought. He sat up a little, propping his pillow against his headboard and pulling his laptop onto his chest. He opened reddit in a new tab, and tried to think of something to punch in after _/r/._

Just “porn” might be a little uninspired, he thought, so he tried to delve deeper into his pornographic lexicon.

_/r/lesbianporn,_ Nothing that different from PornHub. 

He huffed, sinking a bit further back into his pillow. He wriggled his fingers over his keyboard for a second. 

_/r/femdom._

After five minutes of scrolling, his cock twitched slightly in interest, but nothing revolutionary.

He was tired, and he wasn’t the most creative person he knew. He closed his eyes and tipped his head backwards. He thought, in the most base, human terms, what he really wanted right now. If he miraculously stumbled across a genie in a bottle, what kind of scenario would he wish himself into. He rubbed at his chin, stubble pricking against his fingers, thinking hard. 

He was a simple man with simple needs.

  _/r/camgirls._

It was easier to swallow and less intimidating than his previous search, and he found himself getting more excited, emotionally and physically, at the prospect of potentially hitting metaphorical oil, here. He’d see the general shape of something that would draw him in in the thumbnail, and click the grey box next to it to expand.

It took a couple of minutes before he went further, clicking the permalink of one particular girl.

The website wasn’t threatening, and if the video didn’t load, it would just look like some sad relative of vimeo. But the video _did_ load, and he didn’t check how long ago the cross-post was submitted in the reddit thread, but he connected as soon as a slender hand started pulling at the waistband of a pair of sheer black panties.

Her figure was slender in an almost boyish type of way, and from where her sweater rode up against her tanned stomach, he could see the muscle definition even through the lacklustre webcam quality. It was enough, though. His hand wandered down his stomach. 

He was too distracted when she propped herself up on her knees, her back facing the camera, and the distinct line of where her ass met her thighs was enough to make him swallow just a little bit harder, her fingers reaching down to trace it. A feather light touch.

She turned around, and he noticed her hair. Shoulder length and wavy, light brown in colour, swinging with her movements. He realised then that there was a chat on the left hand side of the stream, which he didn’t even think about joining, but there were some who were being fairly vocal. It was then he realised that there was a whole audio element he was missing out on. He scrambled, dick out, hanging half off his bed trying to grab his headphones.

He fumbled, but when he plugged them in and shoved the buds into his ears, he heard ringing laughter, and a soft British accent that said “ _hell no, take that shit somewhere else.”_ His eyes skimmed over the chat to see what she could be responding to, and he let out a short laugh.

_> > feet?_

She was wearing white socks that went halfway up her calves, with a thick red stripe around the opening, which implicitly made it clear how _not_ into foot stuff she was. But he didn’t focus on that for too long, because she scooted back in her bed, against her headboard, just like Ben.

With her knees apart, she sat back on her calves and hooked her fingers into the hem of her sweater. Unblinking, he lowered his hand to the bulge in between his legs, readying himself.

He made a noise in the back of his throat, approval, when there was nothing underneath her sweater. Her breasts weren’t tiny, but they weren’t huge either, and he didn’t realise until now how much he was into that. The chat surged a little in approval, and she leaned back, the soles of her socked feet against her sheets. Her knees knocked together a little, pulling herself up to bring her laptop closer to her on the bed, and it made it easier for Ben to think that it was just him and her, laptop to laptop. He full-screened the stream to make the chat disappear.

With her wedged deeply in her white pillows, you could see the lower half of her face, and Ben would come to notice that she mostly made an effort to hide her features, but didn’t freak out at a slight slip up. Her lips were pink and her jaw slightly square, but her face was soft. A shudder rippled through his torso, travelling down to his balls and up the length of his cock.

Absently, she ran a hand down her sternum, between her breasts and across her abdomen, lingering at the waistband of her underwear. He tentatively wrapped his fingers around himself, starting a slow, inconsistent rhythm as she ran her fingers over her underwear, right between her thighs. She squirmed. He could hear ambient noise coming through her microphone, probably music, and the rustling of her sheets.

“Impatient,” she said, probably referring to the chat, and Ben huffed, wrapping his fingers a little tighter, his tug a little more urgent. She pulled her laptop even closer, her knees now pointing horizontally, her computer nestled in the circumference of her legs. With that, she dipped her fingers under hear waistband, and the computer was close enough that Ben heard the barely-there slickness of her finger sliding between her folds. A soft noise fell from her lips, and the gentleness of it all made Ben grunt, quickening his pace ever so slightly.

He watched intently, pushing his laptop to the vacant spot on his double bed and tilting his head to the side to keep his eyes on her. Her free hand lifted to her chest, palming her left breast and rolling her nipple, now taut, between her fingers. She keened. So did Ben, hips bucking. 

“You want a closer look?” She said to the camera, and mentally Ben pleaded a _god, yes, please._ She got up on her knees and swivelled around, her ass in full view, and for the split second that she leaned forward to plant her torso into her covers to kneel, ass first, into the camera, he caught a glimpse of her face.

  
Her high, freckled cheekbones were flushed, eyes bright as she curved her back, running her fingers down the plane of her stomach. Her fingers dove back into the fabric of her panties, but with much more conviction, and from this angle he could see the way her muscles shifted under her skin, her stomach contracting as the tell-tale movement of her wrist shifting back and forth made her whine into her pillow, muffled.

If he could only just hear the sounds of her fingers thrusting inside of her before, he could definitely hear it now. It was a slight squelch, but one that made his lower stomach burn and forced his head back into his pillow. His eyes shot away from his screen just briefly, the brightness casting a shadow over his own stomach, his own muscles standing out against the light, his cock red with anticipation.

When he looked back, he choked on a moan, undignified and probably a bit too loud. She was edging a bright pink vibrator into the opening of her underwear, her other hand disappearing down her front to most likely rub against her clit, as the length of the vibrator swiftly disappeared into her. Her back arched more than it already was, and from the way her legs were trembling, Ben wouldn’t have been surprised if her knees gave out from under her, but she held firm. Her underwear shifted to the side enough to show Ben exactly what the toy looked like lodged inside of her. The skin was slick and flushed, meshing well with the pink of her vibrator. 

There was a particularly sudden thrust of her wrist, and she lifted her head from her pillow with a cry, exposing her lips for just a second. Just as red and shiny as the rest of her. Ben gave a strangled moan and wondered what it would feel like to slide his cock against her lips, his fingers tangled in her hair and not groping at his own balls. A bead of sweat was forming at his temple, and Ben’s whole body shook with it, shook with her.

She pulled her hands away, and for a small moment, Ben panicked, thinking she was going to abruptly end the stream before the crescendo as many camgirls before her do. To his delight, she simply flipped onto her back, and if it weren’t for her arm draped across her eyes, her whole face would have been visible. Her nipples stood up proudly against her chest, and he longed to wrap his lips around them, to trail them down her toned stomach and between her thighs, to spread her open with his thumbs and—

“ _Fuck,_ ” they both groaned at the same time, and Ben was too far gone to stop at the coincidence. His hand was moving rapidly now, his tip building up moisture, wrist straining. The fire in his gut was blazing, and his toes began to curl as he felt himself getting closer and closer, back arching off the mattress with every sound she made, every curse that fell from her lips.

He watched her as she tossed and turned, and tried to look between her face in case her arm slipped, and back to where her toy disappeared inside of her. Her hips started to jerk more erratically, and Ben could tell that she wouldn’t last much longer, and he thanked whatever God was stomaching this scene, because neither could he.

The slick sounds of his hand against his length were getting messier and less rhythmic, and he bit his lip to try and keep the moans from spilling out. His mind was foggy, and he could see trails of moisture running down her ass and he _sobbed._

_“I’m—“_ she breathed, but nothing else came out. Her hips bucked wildly, and she trusted the toy into her with so much force and exuberance that Ben felt the floodgates opening. Her arm slipped and he caught sight of her eyelashes fanning out across her cheeks, still stained red, and the look of pure euphoria that emanated from her. His eyes hastily grazed her—face, neck, tits, stomach— 

He felt himself spatter against the underside of his chin, _just_ , the majority of it pooling in the divot in the centre of his chest. He panted, hair fanned out around him on his pillow, smelling of sweat and sex. 

He gave himself a few minutes to recuperate, catch his breath and process what just happened. He pulled his sticky hand away from his cock, softening, to throw them over his head. Through his headphones, he could hear her soft, broken moans, and he closed his eyes, imagining her moving the toy inside her after she had just come, and the aftershocks it would send through her body, making her twitch.

Before he could look over to see if his predictions came true, he was greeted with a black screen with white lettering. _STREAM OFFLINE._

He sighed, minimizing the window. He made sure to bookmark the URL before snapping his laptop shut.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He checked back that URL every few nights at around the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It finally happened. I'm so sorry for the obscene delay. I don't know why, but this was really, really hard to me to write on both a creative level, as well as my life being a total shit show for the past couple of months. I hope you enjoy and that the slightly longer word count compensates. 
> 
> Thank you for your patience and kind words.

He checked back that URL every few nights at around the same time, but he hasn’t seen her since that night. He even found the Reddit post again, going through her account activity to see if she had any other links to other streaming platforms. All he found were a few upvotes that popped up every day, mostly in gaming subreddits.

Ben failed trying to find anything that topped what he experienced those nights ago. He’s faithfully stuck to /r/camgirls as his main source, but more often than not, the girls were unremarkable. Either that, or he was just emotionally invested.

The first time is meant to be special, after all.

Exams were hard afterwards. Not the content, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her, and he felt like a _shmuck._ This girl, halfway across the world (if her accent was anything to go by) doesn’t know who he is and even if she did, would probably take one look at him and report his IP address. He was thinking about her in the way that normal people thought about crushes that were far more developed than him seeing her pussy and half of her face through a shitty webcam at 2:30 in the morning.

Every night he’d come home, nervous about his answers, tense and self-deprecating. And she didn’t even come online, didn’t even enable him to shamefully push it all aside for an hour in favour of familiarising himself with his right hand.

 

**&**

“I’m sure you did _fine,_ stop looking so tense.” Phasma admonished him from across the table, looking up at him from her cropped, platinum hair that fell from her usually immaculate quiff.

“Thanks, Phas. Really helps.” He grumbled, looking down into his coffee despondently.

She picked at her blueberry muffin now, shooting him an accusatory glance. “Don’t be that guy,” she stopped to chew. “You studied more than any of us, your grade is going to cover your fuck up from last semester—“ He exhaled softly but sharply, head dipping between his hunched shoulders as the steam from his coffee bled into his thick black curls falling from his crown. “And you’ll join us back in the last semester—in the _real world_. Engineering isn’t _hard.”_

He would have scoffed at that, but he was on edge, not knowing which part of his brain to use to engage in this conversation. He considered disguising his masturbatory issues as academic ones as a way to get some semblance of advice out of his friend, but he wasn’t sure how to do that without a deep blush spreading from his neck to the tips of his ears. Also, he’s about as emotionally opaque as a roll of cling wrap, and Phasma would surely call him on his bullshit and spell his demise.

Later, he’d find himself back in his apartment, sprawled out across his couch. Hux was pottering along just out of his field of vision, a hazy ginger blur. Ben’s legs were spread out, taking up as much space as he could to ensure his privacy. He wouldn’t want the other man to take advantage of the space, bumping up next to him and seeing something that Ben would never live down.

According to her activity, Ben had missed her last three streams. God knows how, as he spends every couple of hours refreshing the page, either in the dark of his bedroom or on his phone, sheltered beneath desks at university. But he managed to miss it. Every single time.

There was a part of him that told him just to give it up. This must be unhealthy. Not only it is unhealthy, but it just felt _wrong._ Creepy. Like he was inadvertently encroaching into this poor girl’s life just because she gets some reaction out of him that only crinkled up magazine spreads of Brooke Shields did when he was thirteen. He _liked_ girls, sure. He could probably just count on one hand the number of sexual partners he’s had while he’s been studying at university. They were all beautiful—they were soft and supple under his hands, from the skinniest to the curviest. Their skin either glowed like a beacon in his shitty bedroom lighting, or it would run deep, velvety, consuming him with every arch of his back, every hand that grasped him. But a few hours later, he’d struggle to remember their name, and eventually, their face.

Ben never found refuge in emotional fixation; the two were never formally introduced.

The thought weighed on him, the uncertainty of whether or not he would end up as one of those lonely men with too many skeletons in his closet, and nothing to show for his years of youthful virility. Soon enough, his features wouldn’t be weirdly alluring—they wouldn’t be softened by rosy cheeks and soft eyes. His nose would stand out against hollow cheeks and rough skin. Maybe his hairline would start receding in his middle years and take away the sanctuary that his obscenely large eyes yearned for. He was doomed. Or overdramatic. He couldn’t settle on just one.

With resolve, he inhaled one last drag from his cigarette. The sun had already set, and the ignited tip of his amateur roll glowed bright orange in the night; a rich, yet empty navy blue. The air was cool for June, and sent his curls flittering in the breeze. Stubbing the butt out on the concrete ledge of his not-balcony, he pulled the sleeves of his sweater over the heels of his palms and shuffled back into his bedroom. He shucked off his sweatpants before laying back on his duvet. It was an apt representation of his pathetic tale of woe: a sweater his mom knit for him, tube socks, second-day underwear and a vacant look the only things on his person. He raised his cold fingers to his face to rub at his eyes in frustration, considering whether he should just go to sleep and forget about it. But, as his fingers dragged down his cheeks and tugged at his eyelids, he spotted his laptop peeking out from underneath his bed. _Maybe. Just maybe._

She wasn’t online, but he expected as much. Like a man grappling for at least _something,_ he scrolled up and down on her homepage, trying to find something that probably wasn’t even there. Some sight of her? Some indication that she wasn’t just an excellent computer generated girl of his fantasies?

He was on the verge of closing his laptop before he noticed something that must have been new, god knows he’s been on the page enough times to probably know the HTML code by now. It was a small yellow button at the foot of the page.

_Donate._

He wasn’t sure exactly what he was expecting, but if anything he expected some direct deposit page to her PayPal account, or some kind of Patreon account. But it was an Amazon wishlist. 

As Ben scrolled through the list of items absentmindedly, he figured that there must be some kind of payment to be derived from such an unconventional job. Despite the enjoyment _he_ drew from her content, the arousal of others doesn’t exactly put food on the table. To her credit, it was an incredibly comprehensive list of items that wasn’t constrained to the nature of her pursuits. While there was no lack of sex toys listed, Ben was surprised at the amount of _normal_ things that were wedged in between. Cutting boards, blankets, makeup, and crockery, amongst other things. He, thankfully, didn’t think about that for too long, because his attention was captured by a curved, pink instrument that made his mouth dry up, just a little bit. It was a rose tinted glass dildo. Ben’s eyes traced the smooth curves, and the way the light reflected from its surface, almost like a beaded necklace. What he liked the most, however, was the base: a smooth, shiny love heart.

He would usually justify his own behaviour, claiming to be overtired, or that he didn’t know what he was doing. But when he clicked _purchase,_ and checked his emails for the receipt before he went to bed, he couldn’t help but admonish himself for wasting his money on something that was, objectively, an illusion. But when he closed his eyes, all he could think about was the cool glass in her hands, and the thought of it being of use to her. Thanks to him.

 

&

 

But he didn’t anticipate what would a few weeks later.

 

_To: Ben Solo (birdoftruth89@hotmail.com)_

_From: Haze (pinkmilk@gmail.com)_

_Subject: (no subject)_

_Thank you for purchasing Icicles No. 43 Heart-Shaped Ribbed Glass Dildo from my wishlist. For orders over $59.95USD, I offer personal screenings to extend my deepest gratitude for your generosity and support._

_Please respond with your preferred date, time, and Skype address._

_With love,_

_Haze._

 

&

 

He all but banished Hux from the apartment on Saturday night. His roommate inquired as to _why_ he was so intent on _him_ going out, only to stay cooped up inside their tiny flat on his own. He feigned a cough, a sniff, and rubbed his hands up and down his arms.

“Not feeling good." 

It was relatively painless, the redhead never having to be pressured (too much) to go out and get plastered enough for him to forget how to get home. Timidly, Ben stood at the closed door for a few moments after he left, making sure that he didn’t come back for something, or to leave him with any last scathing remarks. Ben listened until he heard feet descending down the flight of stairs, to which he then punctuated with the _clunk_ of locking the deadlock on the door. His fingers lingered on the knob for a few moments, his eyes flicking from his hand to the peep hole, then back again. 

When he decided that the silence was an unequivocal mark of Hux’s absence, he turned on his heel, making his way down the hall and towards his bedroom. Through the door, hanging slightly ajar, the room was filled with the warm yellow light of the lamp on his bedside table, and a slightly blue white glare beaming from his laptop screen.

The silence carried on, and all he could hear was his woollen socks shifting against the floorboards. With a gentle thud, he transferred his weight to his shoulder, resting up against his open doorframe. Shucking and twisting his wrist, he glanced at the face of his watch. It was almost ten o’clock. He was torn between abandoning his laptop, his apartment, going to Jerry’s down the street to get blasted off grain alcohol before finding some faceless girl to fuck, instead of hovering around his computer for what may as well be some computer generated fuck simulator. He exhaled sharply, and, for a moment, rubbed his fingers across his closed eyelids and pinched the protruding bridge of his nose.

_This is so, weird, Ben. Why are you so weird?_

He toes off his socks before moving to sit cross-legged in front of his computer, propped up on his pillows. Skype has been open for a while, and after having sent this so-called _Haze_ girl an email with his Skype address to confirm a date and time, she had promptly added him to her address book.

It took a few moments, but the small, empty cloud next to the name _Haze_ turned green. Almost immediately after, a small window popped up, her name, no picture, and a dial tone ringing in the silence of his room. He swallowed. Clicked.

The square screen of her webcam was white and blown out, before fizzling down to a gentle pinky-yellow. The ceiling light—he _assumed—_ was at fault, and the flushed skin he imagined was much more tanned. He didn’t expect to see her face, and he was correct in his assumptions.

He’d adjusted his settings beforehand, so that his webcam was not visible to him. He knew full well that the last thing he needed in this kind of situation was to be fleetingly looking back and forth between himself and her in some fit of self-consciousness, and, in the grand scheme of the whole situation, he wasn’t ready to see his own face when the niggling idea of predatory, gross-internet-guy behaviour plagued him.

He suffered for a moment to not screw up his face in reflective disgust, knowing that his webcam was well and truly on, and two eyes, though he could not see them himself, were surely resting on him. He had to hold himself back from touching his face, fixing his hair, _oh god,_ he panicked, _did I shave this morning—_

“ _Hiya,_ ” that voice said. Her microphone wasn’t the best quality, and if he looked past the fact that he idealised and beautified this girl’s presence—of which he was so painfully uncertain of that she may as well _not_ exist—the picture quality of her webcam wasn’t so great either. The planes and slight curves of her body were boxy in parts, shaded strangely in such a way that reminded him of awful webcams from horror movies from the 2000’s. He felt a similar mortification now than he did when he was ten, and his mum caught him watching movies that kept him awake for nights at a time. This time, however, he could feel moisture building between his brows and on the back of his neck. 

Her white duvet cushioned against her thighs, partially covered by a pair of shorts. She was resting on a slight incline, pinning her torso up with her right arm grounding her against the mattress. Her figure sloped, and even through her webcam, he could see the faint line down her sternum, the dip in her hips from between her waistband and her inconveniently, yet conveniently cropped tank. The frame ended between her two lips.

“Hi,” he responded, his voice, thankfully, steadier and less breathy than he dreaded it would be.

 _“This is really beautiful,”_ The voice said, shifting her weight from her arm to her knees. She propped herself up higher, and her lips and face disappeared from frame. Ben couldn’t help but notice the way her thighs pillowed up when pressed against her thighs. Her skin, though tanned, had a milky smoothness to it, and in his daze, he seldom noticed her arms reaching to her bedside table. From there, he later assumed, she retrieved the toy. It was a dildo, and a glass dildo at that. He reminisced from female friends, older than him in both years and experience, outwardly discuss the benefits of glass over any kind of synthetic material. Aside from any uninteresting (to him, anyway) hygiene variables, he could imagine the weight of it in his hand, the smoothness and chill that it would have inside of someone else. This one in particular was rose tinted, and the length of it bumped like a beaded necklace laid flat. The girl, now fallen quiet, shuffled closer to where her camera was perched. As she moved forward, and consequently, the clarity of her camera went up a few notches in doing so, Ben didn’t fail to miss the small quirk of her lips, the way that the apples of her cheeks became more pronounced with the force. He yearned to see her face, and slowly, the tension he felt in his body was slowly replaced by the all-familiar burn in the pit of his stomach.

Even in the dim light of her bedroom, Ben traced his eyes over the smooth curves and the gentle glint it had in the light. It’s one most striking feature now rolled into the girl’s palm, and her head dipped slightly in such a way as to suggest it now took on her full attention, and her fingers cradled it delicately for a quick moment. A smooth, glistening love heart at the base.

“I’m glad you like it,” Ben said, and that tell tale feeling in his stomach began to crawl upwards. His chest felt heavy, and a gentle, yet ever-present chill rushed across his clavicle, across his shoulders, up his neck and down his back. If he were able to see himself in his screen, he would scarcely recognise himself. To be fair, most people wouldn’t—when he was 16 and first experiencing the joys of feminine wiles, one doesn’t often get the opportunity to get a good look at themselves in the moment. His eyes, now, were dark and lax, and in his slow movement to lean against the headboard, Ben could have sworn the slight tightening of her fingers around the girth of the toy.

“ _It was very generous of you,”_ Ben could practically hear the smile in her voice, and if he was feeling this level of euphoric anticipation now, he was uncertain of how he was going to survive the night up until he turns off his computer. She leaned back once more, offering Ben more of her to rake his eyes across. He leaned his elbow against his knee, and his chin against the palm of his hand, running his tongue along the back of his teeth. She absentmindedly shifted the toy in her hand. “ _Would you like to see me use it?”_

He grinned, tongue still caught slightly between sharp teeth. He hummed for a moment, as if there were anything to contemplate. “I thought we were just going to chat for a moment or two.” 

A gentle trill of laughter filled his ears, and the shifted of sheets as she pulled the laptop closer to the head of the bed. She gracefully lodged herself between large pink pillows, but remained in full view. “Cheeky,” the girl tutted. She had to shift what was obviously a laptop around a little bit to master the field of vision, but eventually, after full-screening her webcam, Ben’s screen was a sight that he’d lock up in his psychological spank bank until a worthy adversary took its place. The top left of the screen began at her lips and slightly pointed chin, of which was curtained in cropped, mousy waves. Her body rest at almost a diagonal, and it was at the sight of her nipples hardening through the thin material of her tank, and the sight of her removing her shorts, only to find nothing underneath, that Ben’s fingers slipped on his composure.

“ _God._ ”

“ _Are you just going to sit there fully clothed?”_ She probed, retrieving the toy after putting it down for a second. Patiently, she ran the tip of the glass along the lines of her hips, along her thighs. It took Ben a moment to process that she was looking at him, waiting.

Immediately, he pulled his shirt over his head and shucked his pants off, kicking them until they fell off his ankles and onto the floor. He combed the hair from his forehead in what he could only call frustration—the frustration in the lack of immediacy, the lack of tangible gratification available to him at this moment in time. He could not, and dared not to describe the lust, the desire to run his hands up milky thighs, to grip and yank them towards him, to lock his lips around her nipples, her collarbone, her clit—

His thoughts were interrupted by a gentle puff of air, and in his reverie, he didn’t notice the girl running the first curve against her outer folds, her legs falling open ever so slightly. Her hips gyrated against the pressure of the toy, and Ben, taking a similar position that he took in the first incident, placed his laptop beside him and leaned slightly on his side. He felt that the general mannerisms of the situation implied that his business not be in frame—after all, to be technical, he’s the one paying to see _her,_ not the other way around—so he made sure that his laptop was angled more towards the headboard than to his lower half. He palmed himself through his underwear, letting out a soft sigh, watching.

For a few moments, he could have forgotten that it was only him there. It felt no different from the first time, and not for bad reasons. It was voyeuristic, almost like peeking in on someone in a lone moment of intimacy, but then he caught sight of the toy in her hand and remembered that that was _him._

The girl lifted one of her legs to prop her foot against the bed, knee pointing to the ceiling. From here, she spread her legs wide and unapologetically, and began to circle her opening with the thick tip of the toy. Her free hand moved to her clavicle, her fingers ghosting over her prominent collarbones and the slight protrusion of her few top ribs, that he wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t so keen on storing every little detail he could for his own libidos sake. Slowly, she pushed the first few notches of the toy inside of her, eliciting a surprised, but low moan from her chest. She sank back into her pillows further, and Ben all but tore his underwear off his body.

She pumped the toy inside of herself slowly, and with every few thrusts, she’d allow herself to take in another notch, and another, before she was gripping the heart and bucking slightly. The shine against the glass only become more and more pronounced, and her moans grew in frequency.

“ _I,_ ” She gasped, cutting herself off with a whine that sent Ben reeling. “ _I’ve never felt glass before.”_

Ben didn’t know how to respond in any other way than a groan of his own. His grip around himself tightened, and he felt the moisture starting to gather around his knuckles. He dared not take his eyes from her to look down at himself. He inwardly cringed at the thought of remaining silent throughout the entire call, but simultaneously couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t have been worse. The words came spilling out of his lips before he could stop them—“You’re so fucking _hot._ ”

She responded with a laugh laced with the aura of arousal. Her head, similarly, wasn’t tipped to watch herself, or to watch the mesmerising way that the curved glass disappeared and reappeared from her sex. Instead, it was clearly angled towards her screen, and her hand had moved from her chest to her mouth. She bit her finger gently and tugged at her bottom lip before her head dropped back onto the pillows. This didn’t allow him any more vantage into her profile that extended upon her cheekbones, high and flushed.

“ _Speak for yourself.”_

He could tell by the escalation of her moans that she was pushing herself closer and closer, her wrist jerking erratically as she fucked herself with the pink toy. He could see the glistening of her sex against her toy and the insides of her thighs, running down the back of her ass, shining in the dim light. She had shifted so she was more frontal, exceedingly more unashamed and reserved than she was in the public stream. There was probably some way for Ben to have pre-emptively recorded this, but that felt wrong, and destroyed the ephemerality that caused this entire bump in his life to hold such influence over him.

“ _Oh fuck,”_ She almost _squeaked,_ her other hand moving to spread herself open further. Ben’s whole being was ablaze, a fire coiling in his stomach and culminating in his cock. His fingers tightened and pumped around himself with purpose, with urgency, and the lube he haphazardly squirted into his hand allowed him to imagine that it was her slickness that encased him.

She was unravelling, and, later on, Ben wouldn’t be able to pinpoint how much time it was, but for a long moment, he saw her face. She writhed until her features came into full view, unbeknownst to her, presumably. Her hair splayed out against her pillows, and to his absolute delight and demise, her face was not only drowned in a hot pink flush, but smattered by freckles. Her upturned nose and thick lash line all but convinced him that this girl was otherworldly, not of this place, an absolute fantasy.

“ _Let me come for you, Ben, let me show you.”_

His heart all but stopped beating.

“Show me then, beautiful,” He murmured thickly, through his own arousal and the keen whine that erupted from deep in his chest when he watched her jerk at that.

He could hear the friction of her sex against the glass; a wet, saturated sound that sounded like angels, a sound that would haunt him for days and weeks to come. Without restraint, she released an obscene cry, mixed with the frantic thrusting of the toy, she was the pinnacle of absolute debauchery. He watched, in a trance, as her hips rolled and her chest rose to the ceiling, her wet lips parting, chanting _his name_ as moisture pooled between her thighs and sinking into her white sheets. Ben could hardly feel his body existing in time and space, but wholly recognised the familiar feeling of warmth and fluids streaming down his knuckles and across his hips. His breathing was heavy, and his chest ached with the intensity. He could feel a flush high on his cheeks, and he allowed himself a moment of peace, eyes clenched shut and head against the headboard, the sight of her imprinted behind his eyelids.

When he opened his eyes again, he suppressed choking on his own saliva. She had brought the toy to her lips and sucked at the first three notches with languid intention. He was dumbstruck, and did nothing but watch through hooded eyes. 

He knew she was watching him, and his frustration was audible in the growl that came from his throat.

She reached forward and dragged the laptop right up close to her, her chest and the lower half of her face in frame. In this proximity, he could see the trails of moisture around her lips, almost running down her chin. Her lips, ruby red and swollen, stretched wide into a grin. She sighed, placing the toy against her chest while she reached to the computer with both hands. “ _Thank you, gorgeous.”_ She sighed, breathless. She puckered her lips, and, with that, his screen went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't deviate from tradition, here. This came to completion at 2am and has experienced absolutely no proof-reading. Please alert me of any glaring mistakes!
> 
> The few songs I had on loop during this:
> 
> Weaker Girl - Banks  
> Come On - Mikhael Paskalev  
> She's My Collar - Gorillaz

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to my friend through their pink vibrator, who counselled and encouraged me through this at 3am.


End file.
